


Facing The Fire

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anger, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Hatred, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24107089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Lambert doesn’t understand why Geralt and Eskel bother with him anymore.He’s even more baffled when Jaskier doesn’t turn and run.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 21
Kudos: 591





	Facing The Fire

Eskel was a solid presence at his back, big, and warm, and just so very pleasant to lean against. His fingers, thick and rough, attached to those massive paws that could crush a man if he wished, were so ridiculously gentle that Eskel didn’t seem real.

Those big calloused fingers ran through Lambert’s hair so slowly, making his scalp tingle and his body began to go limp. Eskel had always been so good at bringing him down from these ridiculous fits. He knew exactly what worked and what to do. So attentive. 

“The old hen she cackled...She cackled on the fence...The old hen she cackled...and she ain’t cackled since...”

It was a stupid old song, but Eskel’s voice was nice, so warm and deep and just...just there. Lambert allowed himself to melt into his brother’s embrace, and Eskel gently pressed his face to the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Feelin’ any better?” He asked in a tone that was impossibly gentle for such a brutal looking man.

“Not really, no.” 

Really Eskel should know better. These feelings didn’t just go away. Sure, the want to break and smash anything he could get his hands on had eased itself into slumber for the moment, but Lambert was still angry. It was just that the anger was now coming out in tears rather than pure unfiltered rage.

“You know, nobody blames you.” Eskel tried to reassure him. “The things you say, whatever you do...We know you don’t want to feel this way.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know what else to say, and anyway, his attention was drawn when the door to the bedroom opened slowly, letting in the scent of lavender and gooseberries.

Fucking Buttercup just had to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Everything alright?” The nosy little prick had the nerve to ask, as if he weren’t going to avoid Lambert for the rest of the winter.

“I think maybe we all just need some rest.” Eskel answered him, not bothered by the interruption at all. He was just far too kind for his own good, wasn’t he?

“Jaskier!” That was Geralt. Fucking bastard. Lambert felt his blood begin to boil again as his elder brother drew near, the obvious scent of rage flowing off of him.

Like Geralt had any right to be angry. He was the one who’d started all of this...No. That wasn’t true, was it? He’d started the fighting on his own. He always did.

“Get out.” Lambert seethed, his teeth clenched. It wasn’t what he’d wanted to say, but he was still just so damn angry! He couldn’t stop the cruel words.

Eskel was tightening his hold around him, pulling his body closer against his own and pressing his heat against Lambert’s back. His nose remained resting against his brother’s neck and those loving fingers still stroked through his hair. Fuck. Here he was, doing his best to try and calm things down, and now all Lambert wanted to do was punch Geralt across the keep.

“He’s alright, Geralt.” Eskel promised. “Just a bad day. You know how it is.”

Lambert hates it that they’re both so used to this now. He hates how he does this so fucking often. He hates...he hates himself, really, and how he can never seem to make himself stop.

“It was my fault for yelling back.” Geralt came closer, stopping at the edge of the bed to take off his boots. Lambert would have moved, rolled over to press his face against Eskel’s chest, but before he could, Geralt was climbing up onto the mattress with them both, reaching out with warm, strong arms to pull the younger witcher close.

“Come here, little wolf.” He pleaded, the scent of anger that had also been all over him now completely faded. 

Lambert allowed himself to be wrapped up in Geralt’s arms, Eskel still holding him tight from the back. The white haired wolf brought one hand to rest against his back while the other gently caressed the back of his neck. 

Geralt’s scent filled Lambert’s senses up to the brim. It was so familiar and comforting, all forest and spring rain and fresh earth. He felt hot tears running down his cheeks as Geralt began to scent him in return, humming against his neck.

“That was stupid.” Lambert sniffled, dropping his head to bury into Geralt’s shoulder. “I don’t even remember what started the shouting.”

“Shh.” Geralt hushed him, pulling away just slightly, and only so that he could place a chaste kiss against Lambert’s mouth. “It’s forgotten.” He promised. “And forgiven...Always forgiven.”

Lambert knows he doesn’t deserve this. He’s more trouble than he’s worth, and the fact that his family have managed to put up with him this long was a shock. How long it would be until they eventually got tired of him...Well, he doesn’t know that, and doesn’t care to. 

What he does know, however, is that Buttercup won’t be staying for much longer. Not after this. 

Run away, little songbird. This is your chance to go. Run like everyone else always has. Nobody would blame you.

Lambert hides his eyes away in Geralt’s shoulder again, letting a pained whine escape him as Eskel and Geralt held him between them. He knows he’s ruined this for them as well. Jaskier won’t want to come back to Kaer Morhen next year if he knows that Lambert will be there, behaving like a wild animal caught in a trap.

“Is there room for me?” A gentle, and shockingly unafraid voice questions from the end of the bed. The smell of lavender and gooseberries is drifting closer and not away.

“Plenty.” Eskel smiles against Lambert’s neck. “Join us.”

Remarkably, the foolish human does.

“My poor, dear wolf.” He spoke softly as he climbed into the bed, settling himself at the head of the mattress, above the witchers. His delicate fingertips joined Eskel’s rough ones, stroking little lines through Lambert’s hair. “You don’t feel well, do you? I’m sorry about that, lovely. I can’t imagine what it’s like...”

Lambert allows a few sobs to be set free, tears beginning to fall against Geralt’s shoulder in much wider streams.

“Shh, it’s alright.” Jaskier assures him, kissing the top of his head. “We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

He shouldn’t be saying such things. Lambert is a monster. Humans are supposed to be afraid...but Jaskier is not.

There’s no cure for what ails Lambert, and he knows this. He’ll be the way he is for the rest of his life, and no matter how much he wishes to be rid of this ever present anger, it won’t allow him to escape. At least, not entirely. Buttercup would have been wise to leave him alone. 

“Nobody’s going anywhere.” Eskel whispers to him then, as if he were reading Lambert’s thoughts.

“Never.” Geralt agrees.

Jaskier kisses the top of the young wolf’s head again, and Lambert can feel the genuine love and concern in his touch. He’s confused but doesn’t nudge the bard away.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, my love.” The human says, not a single shiver to be found in his voice. “You’re not to blame. Not for anything.”

Lambert falls asleep curled into all of their arms, and by morning he’s feeling much better.


End file.
